Page 98 of Bright Lights, Big Christmas
“For me?” Murphy looked genuinely surprised. “I don’t have anything for you, Heinz.”
The old man patted his clay dragon. “I have enough gifts. More than I’ve gotten in thirty years, now that I think of it.”
When the brown paper was ripped away, Heinz’s guests “ooohed” in unison as the gift was revealed—a watercolor portrait of Queenie. The dog’s large dark eyes seemed to shine out from her face, and her muzzle, complete with the heart-shaped patch of brown fur, curved into something almost like a smile with just the tip of her pink tongue exposed.
“Don’t touch the paper,” Heinz urged. “The paint isn’t quite dry. I had very little time to work on it, so it’s not as detailed—”
“This is amazing,” Murphy said, holding the edge of the portrait’s frame. “You really captured her soul.”
“She’s a very soulful dog,” Heinz said. “And excellent company. I’m going to miss her when she’s gone.”
“Why do Queenie and Murphy have to go? Why can’t they just stay here with us?” Austin asked plaintively.
“We gotta go home and get busy growing Christmas trees so they’ll be ready when we come back here to sell them next year,” Murphy said gently. “Me and Queenie, we’re from the country. We do okay in the big city for a month, but after that, we need to get back to the mountains and roam around in the woods where we belong. Just like you belong here in the city with your dad.”
The boy’s lower lip trembled.
“Austin, don’t forget, you’ve got a gift for Kerry, don’t you?” Patrick reminded him, pointing to the tree, where only two more gifts remained.
Austin retrieved a box wrapped in shiny red paper embossed with green Christmas trees and placed it in Kerry’s lap.
“I love it already,” Kerry said. “It’s too pretty to unwrap.”
“Wait until you see what’s inside,” Austin said.
Kerry ripped the paper away and opened the box, lifting out a snow globe. Pictured inside the glass orb, in exquisite detail, was a miniature three-dimensional scene of a small city park surrounded by distinguished brownstones.
“Oh my gosh,” Kerry exclaimed. “It’s Abingdon Square. Right here.” She shook the globe and watched while the delicate flakes of white drifted to the base of the globe. She turned to Patrick. “I absolutely love it.”
“Austin saw it in a shop window over on Greenwich Avenue,” Patrick said. “We wanted you to have something to remember us after you go home.”
Kerry hugged the boy tightly. “Thank you, Austin,” she whispered. “Now, there’s one more present under that tree, and since you’re the youngest, I think it must be for you.”
The child had to crawl beneath the tree to grab the last gift. It was flat and wrapped in brown paper decorated with hand-drawn Santas, reindeers, and elves done in Kerry’s distinctive drawing style.
He unceremoniously tore the paper off, then held the gift between both hands.
“It’s our story!” He looked from Heinz to Kerry. “You made it into a book.”
“Your story,” Kerry corrected him. “We only had time to staple it together for now, but after Christmas, we’ll have it printed and bound between real covers for you.”
“Dad, it’s my book,” Austin said, balancing himself on Patrick’s knee.
“You should open it and take a look,” Heinz advised.
Austin leafed through the pages, pointing out the illustrations he’d dictated to the two artists. “Those are the bad guys that Mr. Heinz drew,” he told his father. “And here’s the owl that Kerry did.” He stabbed the drawing of the boy and girl dragons. “Mr. Heinz made the lady dragon.”
He kept flipping pages, but stopped suddenly, looking from Kerry to the old man. “You finished it. You finished the story.”
chapter 54
Austin stared down at the last page. The illustration showed three backlit figures. The gates to the forest were unlocked and flung open and a young boy, an old man with a cane, and a woman, all of them holding hands and accompanied by an alert, trusting dog, stood looking at the forest. In the distance could be seen a police cruiser, with two villains hanging out the back window.
“It’s us!” the boy exclaimed, stabbing the drawing with his finger. “Me, Mr. Heinz, and Kerry. And Queenie. And there’s the bad guys, going to jail, right, Kerry?”
“Being hauled off to the hoosegow,” Kerry agreed.
“Do you like it?” Heinz asked, almost shyly.
